


Need a Spark to Ignite

by daniomalley



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Accidents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniomalley/pseuds/daniomalley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for no_tags, for the prompt:  Mikey/Ray - Mikey's running out of things to break on his car just for a chance to spend more time with Ray, the ridiculously good looking mechanic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need a Spark to Ignite

The first time, it really was an accident. A flat tire on the highway left Mikey stranded, and he had to call the AAA to rescue him. 

“Don’t drive too far on the spare,” the guy warned. “Get the tube fixed as soon as you can. Who’s your mechanic?” Mikey replied with a blank look, and he suspected the roadside assistance worker was suppressing an eyeroll. “Take it here,” he instructed, writing an address down on a page ripped from a notebook. “He’s the best mechanic in this area. Tell him James sent you.”

Mikey didn’t really spend a lot of time thinking about his car and its upkeep, but he didn’t want the wheels falling off or something, so he took the address and followed the advice. Once he arrived at the garage, he was really glad he had. He parked out the front and walked into the reception area. It wasn’t a separate room, just a little space near the front of the garage with a desk and a computer on it. A little waiting area was set up on the left, with a few armchairs and some magazines. Metallica was playing loudly, and the calendar hanging on the wall had pictures of muscle cars.

Past the desk, he could see the cars being worked on. A guy was doing something to the engine of a dark red station wagon. He was wearing coveralls, but the sleeves were rolled up and Mikey could see the strong muscles in his forearms flexing. He leaned further over to see the engine better, and while the coveralls were too loose to really show off his ass, the view was just enough to make Mikey eager to see more.

Then the guy straightened up and walked over to the counter, and Mikey had to scramble to clear his mind of inappropriate thoughts. The guy had a mass of curly hair tied back in a low ponytail. It was escaping everywhere, though, with curls flying in all directions. He looked at Mikey and smiled, and it was like the sun suddenly coming out, a rainbow shining in Mikey’s face, and someone throwing a box of puppies in his lap all at once.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, and it took Mikey a second or two to remember why he was there.

His name was Ray, and he fixed Mikey’s tire in much less time and for only a slightly higher price than he’d expected. He gave Mikey a business card and a handshake and went back to the station wagon, and Mikey walked out of the shop mainly because he couldn’t think of a smooth way to get the guy’s number.

He’d thought it would pass, but several days later he was still thinking about Ray. It occurred to him that he should look under the hood of his car to make sure it was all still there, so he did, although it took a solid ten minutes to figure out how to get the hood to release. He stared at the engine, realising gradually that he had no idea what he was looking for, but he did recognise what he figured was probably the oil cap, based on the fact that it had ‘OIL’ written on it. And there was a small crack in it, which probably wasn’t supposed to be there. 

He studied it and wondered if it merited the attention of a certified mechanic. He had a feeling it probably didn’t, and that if he took it to Ray, the other man might possibly laugh in his face. But on the other hand, maybe it did need to be fixed. He was no expert, after all. After this train of thought, it somehow made perfect sense to take a spanner and hit the cap a few times to make the crack bigger. At least now he could be pretty sure Ray wouldn’t tell him to go home and come back when something was actually broken.

He’d had half formed thoughts of asking Ray out when he went back to get the oil cap replaced, but unfortunately he’d miscalculated. The job took less than five minutes, most of which were taken up by Ray looking for a new oil cap in a different room, and by the time he’d pronounced Mikey good and ready to go they’d done nothing more than say hello and exchange a few comments about the weather.

The next time, Mikey was determined to be more prepared. He didn’t want to do anything to his car that he couldn’t afford to get fixed, so he did some research. Youtube videos were informative, but mostly focused on ‘here are all the important parts of your car engine, and how your car will be destroyed if you don’t treat them right’. 

He posted a few discreet yahoo questions. He didn’t think that explaining what he actually wanted to do would gain him the help he needed, so instead he asked what sort of maintenance he should be doing on his car. That got him a lot of answers about checking the fluid levels, but most of them came with warnings that not doing so would ruin his car forever, and that wasn’t something he wanted to mess around with.

It was a pain in the ass, but eventually and with way more effort than Mikey had predicted it would take, he figured out a few things he could do. He located the spark plugs and pulled one of the wires loose. He put a crack in the distributor cap. He clogged the air filter with crap – after that one, Ray went through the engine and replaced a whole bunch of things that looked even slightly worn or damaged, saying that he wanted to make sure Mikey’s run of bad luck wasn’t evidence of a bigger underlying issue. Mikey realised he was going to have to be more creative, and it was around then that Gerard stuck his nose in.

He walked into his apartment after work one day to find Gerard sitting on the couch using his laptop.

“Hi,” Gerard said. “I borrowed your laptop.”

“So I see,” Mikey answered.

“I needed to get some stuff off ebay.”

“Sure.”

Gerard looked at Mikey over the top of the laptop screen. “Your Google search history is full of car stuff.”

Mikey’s heart raced a little bit. Stupid nosy Gerard. “So?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Your car’s been in the shop a lot. Are you worried that the mechanic’s taking you for a ride or something?”

 _I wish,_ Mikey thought, and then tried to shake the thought from his head. “No,” he said. “Ray’s an awesome mechanic.” Damn, now he sounded too defensive. _Be cool, Mikey_.

Gerard didn’t seem to notice, though. “Car repairs are expensive.” Mikey nodded ruefully. They were. “It’d be cool if we knew how to do our own repairs. You know. Just the simple stuff. It can’t be that hard. Is it, Mikey?”

Mikey shrugged. Nothing he’d done to his car so far had been particularly difficult, although he’d been a little afraid of electrocuting himself while messing with the spark plugs. Messing with the radiator hoses (cheaply replaced) without wrecking the radiator beyond repair (potentially disastrous) appeared to be a much riskier proposition, and he hadn’t been game to try it yet, but he was running out of other ideas.

“I don’t think we’re the car-repairing type,” Mikey said, and Gerard nodded in agreement. It was true, they weren’t.

“Then what’s with all the DIY websites?” Gerard asked. “And the youtube videos. And your porn bookmarks have changed, too-”

“ _Christ,_ Gerard!” Mikey snapped.

“-I mean, I’m not going to judge, but, you know, I just can’t figure it out.”

“Are you familiar with the concept of boundaries? And tact? And not reading my fucking search history?”

Gerard kind of frowned up at MIkey with a mildly puzzled expression, and Mikey knew that his answer was no, he didn’t understand any of those things. Mikey sighed.

“You like taking your car in, though,” Gerard said thoughtfully. “You get all perky and cheerful when there’s something wrong with it.” Mikey’s insides clenched up unpleasantly. “You like the mechanic?” Gerard guessed.

Mikey didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Gerard could read his face without trying, had always been able to. “That’s really sweet!” he exclaimed. “So you’re trying to learn a bit more about his job?”

That sounded incredibly pathetic but the full truth was even worse, so Mikey leaped on the lifeline eagerly. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s totally it.”

“Aww!” Gerard cried, and Mikey winced. “That’s adorable. He’d be lucky to date you. You should ask him out.”

Mikey hesitated. “I’d like to,” he admitted. That was how his whole messed up plan had got started, after all. “I just haven’t been able to yet. I keep wussing out.”

Gerard nodded at him. “You can do it,” he said. “Next time something’s wrong with your car, you should just say, ‘Hey, it’s great to see you again mechanic dude, want to get some coffee when you’re done here?’”

“I like it,” said Mikey, mildly impressed. Gerard would probably be able to pull that off, too. He made it sound natural. “I might use his name, instead of ‘mechanic dude’.”

“Great idea!” Gerard said, sincerely as far as Mikey could tell. “You shouldn’t have to wait too long either, your car is a piece of shit.”

“Yeah,” said Mikey grimly. “I have a feeling you’re right.”

***

It took a few more days for Mikey to nerve himself up to wearing a hole in the radiator hose. He tried to make it fairly small, but his hand slipped and he ended up with a hole about an inch wide. He looked down at it, panicked, then slammed the hood down, hoping that he’d be able to make the short drive to Ray’s without the engine completely overheating. Ever since he’d started on his ridiculous plan, he’d lived in fear of hearing Ray say something like, “Oh dear, looks like you’ve snapped the timing belt, but don’t worry, it’s nothing a new car won’t fix.”

That didn’t stop him, though. For the sake of his bank balance, he really needed to do something about his crush.

The garage was only a fifteen minute drive away, just off the main road. Traffic could be horrible during the day, but Mikey was becoming pretty familiar with this particular drive and had learned how to avoid the worst intersections.

Ray must have recognised Mikey’s car when he turned into the street, because he came ambling out of the shop while Mikey was parking. A friendly smile crossed his face fleetingly before being replaced by the mildly worried expression he’d started to wear whenever Mikey appeared. 

“Hey!” Ray called as Mikey got out of the car. “You’re back again? I was hoping we’d got to the bottom of it!”

Mikey coughed because his mouth tended to dry up at the first sight of Ray, and finally choked out: “Hey. Uh, yeah. The temperature gauge is shooting way up, I’m a little worried.” Which was true. The needle was sitting firmly in the red part of the gauge, and Mikey had spent the entire drive over watching the hood to see if the paint was blistering off.

“Sounds serious,” Ray said, tapping his full lips with one forefinger and simultaneously making Mikey’s heart burst and freeze in his chest. It shouldn’t have been possible, but that was Ray for you. “You’d better pop the hood and let me take a look.”

It didn’t take long for Ray to spot the problem. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed. “Look at this hole, it’s massive. How long has it been overheating for?”

“Uh... just a couple of days, I guess...”

Ray glowered down at the engine. “This is a pretty big hole. It must have been leaking for a while.” He lowered a hand towards the radiator, and pulled it away again quickly.

Shit. He’d better go along with it, or it would look suspicious. “Yeah, I guess, now that you’ve mentioned it.”

Ray nodded grimly and stepped back from the car. “I can’t change the hose until the engine’s cool – shouldn’t take long, if you drove straight here. You don’t live far away, do you? You can come inside to wait.” 

Awesome. That meant he could sit and talk to Ray a bit while he worked, it was the perfect opportunity. He’d taken Gerard’s advice, and worked out exactly what he was going to say. Mikey grabbed a seat – he knew enough to keep out of the way, otherwise it wasn’t safe – and waved to Frank, Ray’s business partner.

“Back again, Mikey?” Frank called. “What’s wrong this time?”

“Radiator leak,” Ray answered for him. “I just changed all those hoses over, one of them must have been defective. There’s a massive hole, I should have noticed. You could have been stranded on the interstate or something, it’s lucky you came back before it got worse.” That last he addressed to Mikey, who instantly felt guilty. He hadn’t meant for Ray to blame himself for Mikey’s sabotage.

“It’s not your fault,” he said quickly, but Ray shrugged without appearing to really listen and climbed underneath a green sedan.

He worked on the sedan for a while and Mikey tried to nerve himself up to asking Ray out, but he couldn’t really manage it. Frank kept looking at him which was making Mikey feel self conscious, and whatever Ray was doing seemed to be taking a lot of concentration. He was pretty quiet. Eventually Ray pulled himself out from under the car and went to the storeroom to look for a new radiator hose. Frank put down his welding iron and came across to where Mikey was sitting.

“It’s the fifth time in three months you’ve been in here,” he said, and while his tone was light, there was something in his face, in his eyes, that suggested a trap about to spring. Mikey gulped.

“Yeah,” he said nervously. “My car’s a heap of shit, I guess... I should just replace it, but... you know.”

“Yeah,” said Frank with an eyeroll. “Look, Mikey, do me a favour and don’t treat me like an idiot, okay?”

“I don’t-”

“Because maybe Ray hasn’t caught on, or doesn’t want to, but I know that radiator hose didn’t break on its own. And I know your distributor cap didn’t crack itself, or any of the other stuff... well, maybe that puncture really was an accident, I’m not sure, but since then you’ve been back every couple of weeks. I’m not sure what game you’re playing with Ray, but it stops now.”

Mikey goggled at Frank. “I’m not playing a game,” he said, when his brain finally caught up.

“Sure,” said Frank dismissively. “Whatever. Ray doesn’t need you messing with his head... yeah, I know, you’re not doing anything,” he added sarcastically when Mikey tried to argue. Mikey shut his mouth and let his shoulders slump, giving up on defending himself. They heard the sound of Ray walking back into the workshop and Frank stepped away, face revealing nothing.

“We’re in luck!” Ray announced cheerfully. “This hose should do the trick. It’s a little more durable than the one you had.”

“Awesome,” said Mikey, finding his voice. “Thanks.” He refused to let himself look over to where Frank was hammering the dents out of a car door. He thought maybe Frank started to hammer a little harder. 

Ray took the hose out to the lot where Mikey’s car was parked, and Mikey followed him. Ray fit the new hose with strong, deft hands and Mikey watched avidly. 

“You’re good to go,” Ray said, dropping the hood down and grinning at Mikey. He didn’t seem to have realised that there was a smear of oil across his cheek; Mikey couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Thanks,” Mikey said happily. “What do I owe you?”

Ray shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I can send the faulty hose back to the manufacturers, they’ll reimburse me.”

“But your time...”

Ray just shrugged. “I should have noticed this last time you were in, it’s lucky the engine wasn’t damaged. I’m not charging you, Mikey.”

“You don’t have to do that!” said Mikey, horrified. He’d sort of justified the whole scheme in his own mind by telling himself he was giving Ray business. But instead, he was costing Ray money.

“Yes I do,” said Ray firmly. “It’s the right thing. Don’t argue.” And he wouldn’t listen to Mikey’s protests after that. Eventually, Mikey had to leave. As he walked out, he thought he could feel Frank’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his shirt. Or it might have been the sun shining through the window, but it was an uncomfortable sensation either way.

***

He wasn’t going back to the garage, Mikey resolved. It was time to let that all go, and move on. He’d miss Ray, but it was better this way, better to nip the whole thing in the bud before it got really out of hand and he wrecked his car or Ray realised what he was doing. Not to mention, he was slightly afraid Frank would kill him in his sleep if he ever showed his face at the garage again.

He deleted all the articles and youtube videos from his browser history. He tried to forget everything he’d learned about engines (very easy) and the sight of Ray’s messy hair escaping from its ponytail while he leaned down into a car engine (close to impossible). He did everything he could to just stop thinking about Ray altogether.

It didn’t work very well. Mikey lasted for a few weeks – well, actually, he lasted for about twenty seconds, and after that, he just kept pretending. He was never sure if he would have managed to stick it out longer or not, because as it happened fate intervened.

He was driving home from work one morning. It had been his third nightshift in a row, and he was tired, but he was concentrating, watching the road. He had to remind himself later that he wasn’t distracted, because it seemed like he should have done something, reacted faster or something. He didn’t realise something was wrong, anyway, until there was a screech of tires from the other side of the road and a car travelling in the opposite direction swerved into his lane.

He slammed on the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel around, but he was going too fast and the other car was too close to avoid. He could see the other driver through the windshield, their face revealing only utter terror. He’d heard all about the whole ‘life flashing before your eyes’ cliché, but in the time between seeing the other car come towards him and being hit, he had time for exactly one thought, which was a giant, neon, glowing _SHIT_ that filled his entire mind.

The noise was almost worse than the impact. It seemed to go on and on, and while, scared witless, he closed his eyes until everything went still, he couldn’t shut out the sounds. When silence fell it was almost eerie. He kept his eyes shut, trying to catalogue everything without looking. _Still here, everything seems to be attached, all moving like it should. It’s kind of dark, should probably be worried about that... wait, no. Eyes closed. Right. Well, that’s either a panic attack or head trauma._

An ambulance arrived on the scene just as Mikey was getting out of the car and a paramedic hurried towards him. “Mikey?” she asked as she got close. “What the hell happened?”

“Lindsey,” Mikey murmured, feeling a little better. “Car accident.”

“No kidding.” She checked him over thoroughly and eventually declared him injury-free. “You should get checked out by Patrick before your next shift, though,” Lindsey instructed sternly, and eventually Mikey promised he would.

The other driver was fine aside from a broken wrist. Mikey swapped insurance details with her and then she left in the ambulance to get her wrist set, while Mikey waited for a tow truck. It probably only took twenty minutes or so, but that was a long time for Mikey to be alone with his thoughts when he really didn’t want to be.

The tow truck driver said “You want any mechanic in particular?” and Mikey was torn on how to answer.

He thought he’d solved the problem quite neatly by saying, “Nah, wherever’s closest,” but he hadn’t taken into account that Ray’s garage was, in fact, the closest garage to them. Ray came out into the lot when they arrived.

“Mikey!” he cried. “Bob said he was bringing in a Lancer sedan, but I didn’t realise it was yours. Are you okay?” 

Mikey nodded because he couldn’t really find the necessary concentration for forming words. “Go sit down,” Ray instructed. “Or, hell, make yourself a coffee if you need one. Whatever. You know where the stuff is.” He gave Mikey a nudge towards the building, and as Mikey went he could hear Ray saying to Bob, “Okay, let’s get this off the truck...”

A coffee didn’t sound like a bad idea, Mikey thought, but first he should probably sit down for a minute or two. Just until he felt a little steadier on his feet.

He’d just taken a seat when Frank stormed across to stand in front of him. “You got in an _accident_?” he hissed, furious. “That is seriously fucked up, Mikey. You could have hurt someone, could have _killed_ someone...”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Mikey gasped out, and he started to shake, because no one had been badly hurt but they easily could have been. “I nearly died, I thought I was going to die...” His voice wobbled and his vision went blurry. He had thought he was about to die – not before the accident, because there hadn’t been time, but after. Every minute afterwards, he’d caught himself thinking _I should be dead. Why aren’t I dead? This must be a mistake._

He distantly heard Frank say “Fuck,” and then Ray came towards him.

“Mikey? Are you alright?” he asked, taking the next seat over. Mikey nodded again, because saying ‘I think the universe screwed up and is sure to realise it and drop an anvil on me any second’ would probably be too weird, and anyway he didn’t think he could talk without crying. He put one hand to his face and tried to pretend he was just scratching an itch or something, and not wiping his eyes.

Ray put an arm around his shoulders and Mikey gave up on pretending to be tough, letting himself lean into Ray’s side and put his head against Ray’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Ray asked. Mikey nodded, feeling kind of pathetic. This little freak-out would be a lot easier to explain if he was.

“Paramedic checked me,” he said, sniffling a little. “I’m fine. Couple of bruises.”

“That’s good,” Ray said, rubbing his back. Mikey nodded and tried to stop his hands shaking. “This really isn’t how I hoped to see you again,” he added. “I’m going to make coffee. Stay here.”

He stepped away to make the coffee and Mikey sort of missed the comforting solidness of Ray sitting beside him, but he was glad for the chance to compose himself. He answered Ray’s questions about whether he took sugar or cream, and thought over what he’d said.

“You were hoping to see me again?” Mikey asked when Ray came back with two steaming mugs, because maybe his brain-to-mouth filter had been the one casualty of the accident.

“Well, yeah,” Ray admitted. He looked uncomfortable. “I mean... not that... I know you’ve had some rotten luck with your car, but I promise I didn’t...”

“I know,” Mikey said quickly. To hell with it. “That was me.”

Ray sat back down, sideways on the chair so he could face Mikey. “It was you?”

Mikey shrugged. He was tired, and sore, and he’d had enough of lying. “Yeah,” he said. “I put that hole in the radiator hose. And the other stuff.” He looked down at his feet. “I just wanted an excuse to come back, I guess. I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand, but...” He tried to pull out of Ray’s grip. “Sorry.”

“That could have been really dangerous,” Ray said seriously. Mikey tried to turn away, grimacing. He _knew_ that. “I guess I’ll just have to give you a better excuse,” Ray added, smiling just a little bit, only the slightest inflection revealing his uncertainty.

Mikey looked up hopefully. “Better excuse like...?”

“Like coffee sometime. Or a movie. Or whatever.”

“I’d like that a lot.” Mikey took a gulp of coffee, but it was hard to drink it when he was smiling so hard he thought the top of his head might slide off. “You’ll probably have to be the one to pick me up,” he said thoughtfully. 

“Yeah,” Ray agreed. “I don’t really want to have to wait until your car’s fixed to be able to take you out.”

“So you can fix it?” Mikey wondered. 

Ray grimaced. “I’m not sure. It’ll be a big job.” He gave Mikey a calculating look. “To think I was going to tell you it might be a blessing in disguise – you could write off your old car and get something that didn’t break down every second day.”

Mikey blushed. “I think Frank I’m a psycho. Or a stalker. Or a psychotic stalker. It’s not really... normal behaviour.”

“Yeah, well, Frank’s in no position to judge anyone else’s level of normalcy,” Ray snorted. “That said, if you ever do something like that again, I’ll set him loose on you.”

“Scary,” said Mikey, trying to pretend the threat didn’t alarm him.

“It is,” said Ray. “You’ve never been in a prank war with the little shit.”

***

Mikey had thought that finally organising a date with Ray would take care of his nerves, but it turned out not to work that way. He could barely sit still. He’d changed his outfit so many times that even Gerard was making fun of him.

“This date has to be perfect!” Mikey tried to explain. “After everything that’s happened, he must think I’m a complete headcase. This is my one chance to prove I can be a normal, rational, non-freak that he might like to date.”

“And you think stripes with plaid are the way to achieve that?”

When the doorbell finally rang, Mikey jumped about a foot in the air. He ran for the door, gesturing at Gerard to stay where he was. “Don’t interfere!” he hissed. “This date has to go perfectly. Perfectly!”

Ray was wearing jeans and a band t-shirt, and his hair, free of the ponytail Mikey was used to seeing it in, sprang out from his head in sheer defiance of gravity. He was also holding a sad, twisted lump of metal in his hands.

“Is that from my car?” Mikey asked, and to Ray’s nod he added, “Is it supposed to look like that?”

Ray shook his head sadly and Mikey sighed.

“You look good,” said Ray. “Are you ready to go?”

Mikey nodded and was about to step outside when Gerard walked down the hallway, pretending not to notice Mikey’s glare even though he totally did.

“You know, roses are more traditional,” Gerard said, nodding to the broken car part Ray was holding. 

“Traditional is boring,” Ray said, and Gerard brightened considerably.

“I like him,” he said to Mikey. “You should keep him.” Mikey groaned. It was sort of nice to have Gerard’s support, especially since he’d probably never get Frank’s, but he wished Gerard didn’t have to be so embarrassing about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said to Ray. 

“Okay,” said Ray, taking Mikey’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Gerard.”

They hurried down the stairs where Ray unlocked the doors to what Mikey recognised as – well, as a really fucking nice car. 

“It’s nice,” he said appreciatively, because he knew that was important to Ray.

“’68 Mustang,” Ray said proudly. “I bought the body at a wreckers and pretty much rebuilt the whole engine.”

“It’s nice,” Mikey repeated. Ray looked sideways at him with a knowing expression. “It’s a nice colour,” Mikey added, feeling pretty stupid. 

“Frank did the paintwork,” Ray said.

“Oh,” said Mikey. “It’s-” he forced his mouth closed before he could say ‘nice’ again.

Ray opened Mikey’s door for him, which was sweet but unnecessary, except that Mikey’s track record with cars now was so appallingly bad he was actually a little reluctant to touch it.

“So, Mikey,” Ray said as they pulled away from the curb, “I’ve told you all about myself, but I don’t know much about you. What do you do when you’re not deliberately breaking your car?”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he said, but he was too happy to be really annoyed. “I’m a nurse,” he added, and glanced across at Ray to see if he was going to make fun of Mikey’s job.

“A nurse?” Ray said, but his tone wasn’t mocking. “So, if we’d met at the... hospital?” Mikey nodded. “At the hospital, and I just desperately wanted another chance to get the incredibly hot nurse’s number...”

“Incredibly hot?”

“That’s what I said. And if I kept coming in needing, like, stitches and tetanus shots and shit...”

“I’d see straight through you,” Mikey said, grinning.

“You probably would,” Ray agreed. “I can’t keep secrets at all. You wouldn’t leave me to suffer my terrible self-inflicted wounds alone, though, would you?”

“Never,” said Mikey. “I’d probably ask you out before you lost a finger or something. Maybe.”

Ray nodded. “You wouldn’t want me pushing up the waiting times.”

“Yeah,” said Mikey. “That’s totally it.” But his voice was completely insincere and he could see in Ray’s grin that he could tell.

“All in all,” Ray said casually, “it’s probably for the best we met at the garage.”

“I think so. Cars are easier to fix. And your coffee is far, far better.”

It was a perfect date.


End file.
